


Merging Images

by Clair de Lune (clair_de_lune)



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, Incest, M/M, Pre-Series, Rimming, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clair_de_lune/pseuds/Clair%20de%20Lune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mid-afternoon, when Lincoln showed up at his office, Michael stiffened – stiffened even more than usual. He stood there and waited, all tense and business-like and buttoned-up in his dark grey suit. (Pre-Series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merging Images

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Rounds of Kink (New Year Mini-Round 2010) with the following prompts: rimming and juxtapose, and let’s say it also works for wild, bawdy and golden.

Mid-afternoon, when Lincoln showed up at his office, Michael stiffened – stiffened even more than usual. He stood there and waited, all tense and business-like and buttoned-up in his dark grey suit. Nothing new there; the rare times Lincoln showed up at his office, he was always tense, wondering what his deadbeat of a brother wanted and how he would embarrass him. Sometimes this reaction amused Lincoln, sometimes it exasperated him; today, it made him playful in a snarky way. He pointed out, very loudly, that since Michael hadn’t been returning his phone calls, he had no other choice than a surprise visit. A few people turned their heads towards them and Michael’s mouth tightened in exasperation, lips barely opening enough to drop a “Jerk.” He hated boisterous and unfair Lincoln, although Lincoln could never pinpoint which one riled him up the most. With a smirk, he leaned to clasp a brotherly hand on the side of Michael’s neck. The way he licked the shell of Michael’s ear and wiggled his tongue, though... not so brotherly. In a whisper, he gave Michael the deliciously bawdy assurance that “Invite me in tonight and it’s not into your ear that I’ll be sticking my tongue,” and straightened up to enjoy his baby brother’s reaction.

Michael gasped. He gasped and flushed and slightly doubled over the edge of his pretentiously modern desk, his hand hitting the glass and leaving a sweaty imprint. The reflexive move was subtle and probably not noticeable by anyone except Linc; it spoke a thousand words to him. He grinned at it, grinned at Michael and at the look his brother threw at him.

“I can’t believe you,” Michael said, his voice too cold and too flat to be true. “I can’t believe you’ve come here just to...”

Lincoln curled his fingers tighter around Michael’s neck and let his thumb slide along the jaw. It caught his brother’s attention, maybe subdued him into not moving until he felt allowed to by Lincoln. Either way, he listened to him; having his attention, Lincoln admitted “I’m missing you,” and knew he had him.

He’s not the kind of guy to ask and beg; to reach out to his baby brother for a lay or affection or attention. But sometimes, a man has to do what a man has to do.

* * *

A few hours later, Michael is lying on his stomach across the large bed of his apartment, naked and writhing under Lincoln’s attention. This is one of the many things Lincoln has been missing. He watches his brother all sprawled out for him to take – take anything and everything he wants – and juxtaposes this sight with the image of Michael, all cold and reserved in his designer suit. In broad daylight, he’d rather not think about it, but here and now, in the golden half-light of the bedroom, he loves being one of the few people, if not the only one, able to do this to Michael, able to undo him beyond words and help him to pick up the pieces afterwards. Here and now, the craziness and wrongness of all this is an added turn-on. This is something else he’d rather not think about.

His hands trail down Michael’s flanks and grab his thighs. He smiles at the shudder that runs through his brother’s body because he knows what Michael is anticipating. They’ve been at it for a while. It started in the shower, where Lincoln joined Michael and lathered him up, smirking lasciviously when he slipped his fingers between Michael’s buttocks; it kept going on in the bathroom when Michael went on his knees, allegedly to dry off Lincoln’s legs and ended up distracted from his task; it moved to the bedroom where the only thing that prevented Lincoln from pounding into him right away had been the idea of more coming up.

So, now, his mouth lingering on the small of Michael’s back, Linc still has a promise to live up to. He positions him as carefully as he would if he was painting a picture; pushes his legs further apart and his knees higher to spread him wide; sneaks a hand between his stomach and the pillow stuffed under his hips to grab his erection and pull it back where Lincoln would be able to see it and touch it. The handling and the sudden awkward angle of Michael’s penis cause a howl of what Lincoln can only think of as _pleasurable pain_. He probably shouldn’t enjoy it so much but well, it’s not like he can order his dick around, right? As an apology and a foretaste for both of them, he rubs the underside of Michael’s cock, then sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking Michael’s scent and flavor off them.

“Those people kissing your ass every day...,” he says.

He bends down and bites a firm buttock. It leaves a red mark and a sheen of saliva.

“I’m a junior associate,” Michael chokes out. He tries to lift his ass up but Lincoln casually holds him down. “There’s not that much ass kissing.”

Too much talking, as always, Lincoln decides. His mouth slides all the way up Michael’s sweet butt, from the root of his cock to his tailbone. It’s a first sweep, superficial and teasing, no lingering or fancy kissing, but it has Michael cursing and moaning in a satisfying way.

“Those people kissing your ass every day,” Lincoln starts again, right against Michael’s backside. To his delight, the warmth of his breath causes shivers on the smooth skin. “I doubt they’re doing it as literally as I’m going to.”

Michael’s breathing hitches at the promise and, yeah, Lincoln thinks he has pretty good reasons to start gasping for air.

He spreads Michael’s cheeks and exposes him totally, drinks in the sight of puckered skin and dives in for good. There’s nothing teasing or superficial this time around. The flat of his tongue runs up and down, all hungry, rubbing and licking. Not a lot of people he’d be willing to do that to; none except Michael would he do it to so eagerly. Fuck, he wants to do it... is _this_ close to admitting that he needs to do it. He hums his appreciation against the so-intimate flesh. Above his head, Michael lets drop a string of pleas and obscenities and, with a leer, Lincoln hums again, aware of the effect the vibrations traveling through his brother’s body have.

Michael twists under him, his hands helplessly scratching around and fisting the sheets. For a few seconds, Lincoln stops what he is doing and enjoys the view: the way Michael’s face contorts in pleasure, the display of lean muscles rolling and straining and, right under his eyes, the tasty ass willingly offered and covered in spit and kiss bites. Playfully, he bumps his nose between the parted buttocks, grunting his satisfaction at the delicious sound the touch wrenches out of Michael’s throat.

Michael’s shaking with need, and truth be told, Linc is not in better shape when he moves in for the kill. Every scrap of teeth, every swirl or jab of tongue and every suction of his mouth is answered with a pant, a wild roll of hips, a desperate clutch at the bed covers. The way he twists and curls, it looks like Michael is, at the same time, trying to escape him and get closer. Better grant him what he wants, then. Lincoln allows him to rise a bit on his knees. Surprised by the unexpected freedom, Michael arches his back, cock bobbing up against his stomach. Lincoln grabs it and gives it a few good strokes before just holding it; so nice in the palm of his hand, heavy and full and hot. Michael whines and tries to fuck into his fist, but Lincoln tightens his grip – no way it ends up in a hand-job; that’s not how it’s going to happen tonight.

Holding him spread out, he presses his tongue against the entrance to Michael’s body, gives him a few fancy swirls and pushes in. Michael jerks beneath him, so hard that Lincoln worries he may pull a muscle. Next thing Lincoln knows, he’s cautiously withdrawing and blowing gentle “Shh...” sounds right against the fluttering opening. Looks like it doesn’t help at all, if Michael’s almost-sobs are any indication, though. Thinking about it, it kind of makes sense, he’ll grant him this; it’s the small puffs of air on the over-stimulated flesh that are just driving him up the wall. Lincoln laughs – which leads to more sobbing – and then there is buttoned-up Michael’s voice taking over and instructing him to “fucking stick it in already, asshole!”

He complies – Michael deserves it. And the contrast, the hot/cold of Michael spitting salacious directions with _that_ tone would have Lincoln do anything, anyway. So he sticks it in. Goes as deep as he can, thrusts in and out and keeps this up until both of them, delirious with lust, are blathering filthy nonsense they’ll later deny having said. This is it, Lincoln thinks as he savors sweat and musk and traces of soap, his face covered in the strong mingled scents. No way to be closer, no better way to taste, feel and breathe him like no one else ever will. The kick of Michael falling apart under his hands, under his mouth, makes his head swim; the indecency of the caresses he’s provided twists his guts.

Michael comes with a rough and desperate “Lincoln” on his lips. No moaning or shouting. Linc revels in the panted word, just as he revels in Michael’s cock spilling over his hand and in his ass clenching hard against his face. He keeps moving his tongue in and out for a couple of minutes, as much to prolong his brother’s pleasure as because he doesn’t want to relinquish his hold on the luscious buttocks. Michael goes lax and collapses under him. The shudders shaking him slowly subside. Still breathing hard, he gathers his minds and throws Linc a smoldering gaze above his shoulder. Lincoln’s cock twitches on its own, reminding him that he’s still damn hard and needs to do something about it _now_.

Michael grins and bows his back, lazy and wanton. No words needed, the invitation is obvious. Lincoln fists his cock and pulls and tugs on it, his fingers still moist with Michael’s release sliding up and down without effort. It certainly adds to the thrill, the thought of using his baby brother’s come to lube himself. That and the fact that said baby brother is being a fucking tease, shifting under him, bumping his bottom against Lincoln’s stomach, spreading his legs for his appreciation.

Michael licks his lips and murmurs, “Come on, Linc...”

It’s all it takes, the half-pleading, half-challenging encouragement. He pumps his hips once, twice, and thick white fluid spatters all over Michael’s back – left shoulder, middle of the back, a few last dribbles right above the curve of his ass. Eyes half closed in ecstasy, Michael tastes it, tastes him, fingers collecting the semen on his shoulder and bringing it to his tongue. Still dizzy with pleasure, Lincoln shakes his head but doesn’t comment – to each their own thing and it’s not like he can say anything after the way he feasted on Michael’s ass.

“That was absolutely dirty,” Michael drawls.

With a satisfied sigh, Lincoln slides forward and settles on top of him. He traps between them sweat, saliva and come, slick and sticky on their skins, and his softening cock nestles in the warmth of the ass he’s so meticulously licked and lavished. Perfect.

“Like you don’t like it dirty.”

He grabs Michael’s chin to twist his neck and catch his mouth in a sloppy kiss. Michael grumbles and fights off Lincoln’s tongue, nose scrunching in disgust.

“Jeez, Linc! Not that dirty.”

“You ate my come, man.”

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

Lincoln plays along. He’s not sure whether he’s going to be lectured about how swallowing sperm is in no way comparable with having in your mouth a tongue that dipped in places a tongue is not supposed to dip in, or be given a more creative reason. Considering the devious gleam in Michael’s eyes, he’d vote for proposition number two, though.

“It’s full of proteins,” Michael says quietly.

Yep. Proposition number two all the way.

Lincoln can’t help a chuckle and, despite Michael’s protests, tongues into his mouth.

* * *

Most of the time, afterwards, he’s just too wrung out. He falls asleep right away and snores his way through the night. Or at least, to the moment where Michael wakes him up with his fingers or lips sliding and/or prodding in various places and suggests, “Let’s do it again.”

But every now and then, he rolls onto his side and watches him sleep. Fucking chick flick moment, but whatever. He studies the planes and hard lines and curves the way Michael would with some of his construction works. He tries to see and understand the little cogwheels working, sometimes at a frantic pace, under that pretty face, under those pretty eyes. He wonders if any of the people kissing his pretty ass every day – no matter what he may pretend – have the slightest idea of what’s going on in there.

The images of Michael that, in his mind, are juxtaposed? That’s pretty much the only moment they merge and form a single, perfect, crazy picture.

END

\--Comments and/or kudos are always appreciated :)


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